Sovereign (Sovereign Series) (23 page)

He
rolls his eyes.

“Where’s
the...the body?” I ask, whispering extra softly over the word
body
.

He
glances over his shoulder at a pile of broken sticks that seem to be stacked
over something large.  I nod, and look at the ground. 

“I’m
assuming you have a plan.”

“Um.” 
I don’t want to tell him I didn’t think it through, but my plan is laughable. 
“Walk toward the sun in the morning, away from it in the afternoon.  Rest at
night.”

“And
do you have any idea where that will take us?”

“Away,”
I say, knowing that Antius is in the other direction. 

I
fully expect him to protest what he probably thinks is a ridiculous excuse for
a plan.  He takes a deep breath.  “Okay.”

Since
it was getting dark, we decided to spend one more night in the tree.  We drank
plenty of water, which hadn’t seemed to have any ill effect on us.  I’m not
sure about him, but my stomach growls with hunger. 

Dylan
is settled in, stretched out in the cavity of the tree that’s been our home for
the last two days.  I, however, curl up near the opening.  He tried to argue,
but I told him I needed fresh air.

I
can’t sleep, and I don’t think Dylan can, either.  We haven’t spoken much
today, though I’m not sure why.  I feel angry even though I don’t have a
reason.

“There’s
room for you to stretch out.”

I
take a short breath.  “We should probably still whisper, just in case.”

I
wad up the jacket and lay my head on it. 
Someone died in this jacket
, I
think.  What a morbid thought.  I tell myself it’s better that he’s gone
because it’s one less person hunting me, but I can’t help but be affected by
it.  Life is a fragile thing.

“Do
you...remember anything?”

“Remember
what?” he asks.

“You
know, yesterday.  This morning...”

He
takes forever to answer.  “I remember getting that thing off of you.  Then,” he
takes a breath and shifts his weight.  “Waking up this afternoon and finding
water.  Stumbling over a dead body.”

“Oh.” 
I dig my fingernail into the wood absently. 
That’s good.
 

He
shifts his weight again, and somehow I can tell he’s looking at me.  I always
can.

“What’s
on your mind, Cori?” he asks softly, but there’s something heavy underneath.

“You
just...weren’t doing so well is all.  You could have died.  I was really
worried.”  There.  That’s vulnerable enough.  It’ll have to be. 

“Is
that all?” he asks.  I’m banking on him not remembering his little
episode
earlier.  It’s better this way.

“Yeah,”
I say.

“Okay. 
I’m sorry I worried you.  Thank you for bringing me water.”

“You’re
welcome.”  

Morning
comes faster than I expect.  I guess I was able to sleep after all.  I stand
out in the open, stretching my stiff limbs and trying to ignore my headache. 

“I
found something I think we can eat,” Dylan says from the other side of some
bushes.  He walks around with a handful of small, brown, circular things.  He
squeezes one until it bursts and a reddish liquid drips down his thumb.  He
sniffs it.  Pops one in his mouth.

“Dylan,
wait,” I hiss too late.  He swallows it and we just stare at each other for a
moment.

“Not
bad,” he mumbles, tossing another in his mouth.

“We
might as well die together.”  I take a few and toss them back; they taste
bitter and earthy.

We
eat the rest while walking toward the sun, away from the other group.  That’s
not to say their direction won’t change, so we still need to be on guard.

After
a few hours of walking, we come to a clearing.  There’s a large field, and on
the other side are more trees.  We stop and crouch, looking out into the
clearing.  I scan the tree line across from us, squinting to make out any
potential threats there, but it’s really not bright enough to see into the
shadows.

“Up
for a run?” I ask him.

“Are
you
?
”

“Chest
is still a little sore, but I’ll make it.”  No sense in getting too
comfortable.  Who knows how long we’ll be on the run.

The
grass is up to my chest, so there’s no telling what we’re running into or what
we’ll come across.  I need to be swift but careful--
we
need to.

We
step from the shade, and I glance over my shoulder at him.  I can finally make
out the color of his eyes in the sunlight--dark green with flecks of yellow
around the pupil.  I look away and without warning, I start running.  He keeps
up with ease.

I
try to soak in as much detail as I can.  This openness, this field, these are
the things I’ve dreamed about for so many years.  But I don’t feel free, not
yet.  I wonder if I ever will, or what I think I’ll find.  There’s something
about running that stirs up the deepest things inside me.

I
take deep breaths in and out, basking in the sun.  Even though it’s always
mostly obstructed, it’s still enough to warm my face.

“Cori?”
Dylan asks.  I didn’t realize I stopped, but I’m standing in the middle of the
field with my head tilted toward the sky, and my fingers gliding over the tall
blades of grass.  It’s a taste of what life could be like in a world without
Nathan, or of
this
world if I actually manage to elude him. 
We
,
I correct myself again. 

I
nod to Dylan and keep moving, slower now, relishing every detail.  A gentle
breeze tickles the hair that’s fallen out of my ponytail onto my neck, and I
sigh, relaxed.  I feel at home here where there’s nothing and no one.  Just me
and the open space...and Dylan.  I try to imagine it without him and I’m glad
he’s here.  Really glad.

When
we cross into the woods, I turn back to look.

“I
don’t remember the last time I saw you smile,” he says.  He’s not whispering
anymore, but he still speaks softly. 

I
try to pull the corners of my mouth back into my signature scowl, but I can’t
help it.  I try to imagine what the sky was like when it was blue and painted
with white. 

A
deep breath, and I turn away.

My
foot stumbles over a stone and I catch my balance, but Dylan grabs my elbow to
support me anyway.  I look at his face, but not his eyes.  I pull my elbow away,
harsher than intended, but I don’t need help. 

He
turns on his heel and walks deeper into the woods.  He doesn’t speak for hours,
and only glances up periodically at the sun.  He moves branches out of the way
and lets them sling back in place split seconds after I’m through them.  Every
now and then I take a different path so he doesn’t have to worry about clearing
the way. 

“Dylan,
wait,” I say, slowing down.  We’ve been hiking for hours.

“Need
to rest?” he asks curtly.

“Thank
you.”  I cross my arms.

“What?”

“Thank
you for saving me.  From whatever that machine was.”

“Cori--”

I
hold up a hand to stop him. “But I’m
not
weak.  I’m
not
fragile. 
I don’t need you to help me take every step.”

“Why
do you assume the only reason I want to touch you is because I think you’re
weak?”

“Why
is it so easy for you to touch people, Dylan?  You were raised in the same
place I was.  You shouldn’t
want
to.”

I
take a deep breath and turn away from him.  I can’t read his expression and
it’s driving me crazy.  I’ve never spent this much time with Dylan, and I feel
like I never knew him at all.

“And
while I’m at it,” I turn back around.  “Who
are
you?  For ten years you
sit across from me with your shoulders hunched and your head down.  Stealing
sidelong glances and speaking so quietly.  Always worried.  Always careful.”

“And?” 
He shifts his weight and stuffs his hands in his pockets.  He’s tense, maybe
more than I am.

“And
then we get out here and you’re this calm, confident guy.  You’re athletic and
strong.  And prepared, and--”

“So
you liked me better when you thought I was weaker than you?  That’s rich.”  The
statement is laced with something that burns me to the core.  And I’m stunned. 
Is it true?

“I
liked you better when I knew who you were.  Or who I thought you were.”

Dylan
starts walking again, and I trail behind him.

“It
wasn’t you I wanted to deceive, Cori.  I was trying to protect you.  I knew
that if we were going to be friends, I’d have to blend in.”  He stops and turns
to me, raising his voice slightly.  “I don’t know if you noticed, but I’m a
half a foot taller than everyone else in that building.  I tend to stick out. 
So I slouched at the table, I kept my head down, and I stayed quiet.”

That
stings a little.  It stings a lot, actually.  Blush spills over my cheeks like
a volcano, and guilt pricks my heart.  The things about him that I’d secretly
criticized, he was doing for me.

“I--”

“Don’t
say anything.  We need to find water.”  He commands.  It startles me, but I
follow him silently.

We
walk for another half hour before coming across a small stream where we crouch
to drink.  I scoop water and lift it to my mouth.  I smell it first, but I’d
probably drink it even if it smelled off.  It tastes fine, too.  Actually, it
tastes
good
.
  Fresh.  It’s apparent that the stream
was much larger a long time ago, but has dwindled with the water supply.

Dylan
drinks as much as he can, and so do I.  Ahead, the woods thin out, and I wonder
if they’ll end soon and what’s on the other side.

We
find more of those brown, juicy things and eat them.  I’m still hungry, but
it’s enough to keep us moving.

When
it gets dark, we can’t find anything that’ll make for good shelter, so we
settle in between a couple of large trees.  It’s not ideal, but it’s all we can
do.

He
leans against one tree, and I sit against another facing him, with our legs
stretched out between us.  I cross my ankles and lay my arms over my chest. 
I’m wearing the jacket now.  I figured I’ve been stubborn enough lately, and I
am cold.  He doesn’t show it, but I’m sure he’s cold, too.

“My
mother’s name was Meredith.”

I
sit up a little straighter.  He’s never told me this.  Maybe because we’ve
spent the last ten years talking about me. 

“How
do you know that?” I ask.  He shouldn’t know, not according to Antius’s rules.

“She
came to visit me as much as she could.  She got pretty good at sneaking around
the compound.”  He stares somewhere into the distance.  “Kind of like you.”  He
grins, his eyes drifting toward me for a brief moment then back to the woods.

“She
would hold me in her arms and sing in my ear.  Always quietly so she wouldn’t
get caught.  She would stroke my face, and kiss my forehead.  Run her fingers
through my hair.  She’d say, ‘I love you, Dylan.’”  His breath hitches, then he
goes on.  “I loved her, too.”  His mention of the word
love
makes me
think of my father.

“After
me, she couldn’t conceive again.  They ran tests, and tried some surgeries and
drugs on her...but nothing worked.  She begged them to spare her life and allow
her to transfer to care-taking.  They agreed, provided she was not
my
caretaker.  If she hadn’t been so beautiful, they probably wouldn’t have taken
the deal.  She was charming.” 
Like her son,
I think.

I
imagine an innocent young woman having her child taken from her then being
deemed useless like some possession you can throw away.  It sickens me. 

“She
became a caretaker on the girls’ floor.  You probably saw her and never knew
it.”

“What
happened to her?”

He
takes a long, deep breath and sighs.  “She got caught.  I was ripped from her
embrace and thrown against a wall, then she was dragged away.  I never saw her
again.” 

Him
saying “dragged away” sparks a memory and I close my eyes, trying to focus to
call it forward.

I’m
on the boys’ floor, hiding in an air return, maybe eleven-years-old.  I’m
covered in sweat from slipping in the vent and almost getting caught, but I’ve
recovered and I’m holding still till the guard on this floor is off my trail.

I
watch him pace the hall, listening intently, until Nathan storms through the
threshold. 

“Take
a walk,” Nathan tells him, his speech loud and slurred.

The
guard excuses himself and Nathan slams into a boy’s bedroom.  I hear a scuffle
and then he emerges from the room with a woman in tow.  His fingers are
clenched around a wad of her hair and he jerks her down the hall.  She’s barely
able to stay on her feet, and when they’re halfway between the room and me, he
slams her into the wall with his fingers around her throat.